


Spellbound

by Taisho



Series: One-shots & Song Fics [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Aurors, Azkaban, Character Death, Codependency, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Dark Mark Kink (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, Delusions, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Insanity, Loss, Master/Slave, Obsession, Songfic, Submission, Unrequited Love, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-12 01:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taisho/pseuds/Taisho
Summary: Spellbound I am, I amThe wizard has enchanted meA short songfic about Bellatrix's devotion to Voldemort.





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> The song is a translation of Trøllabundin by Eivør - check it out here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOsFQ-VUeMw
> 
> I do not claim to own, and do not seek profit from this fanfiction work of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series or from Eivør's musical creations.
> 
> (one day I will do a song-fic from English language songs... maybe)
> 
> Another short songfic which I was too eager to post to beta, so apologies for any inconsistencies in grammar/spelling.

**_Spellbound I am, I am_ **

 

The first time Bellatrix Lestrange laid eyes upon him, she knew she would serve him even in death – vowing to smother his enemies even from the Divine Plane. Lord Voldemort was her Venus, having come down from the Heavens to reward those who remained loyal to the cause, and punish those who had wandered astray.

 

**_The wizard has enchanted me, enchanted me_ **

 

Bellatrix accepted her Dark Mark with near orgasmic bliss, her delighted mewls of appreciation ringing out eerily in the clearing as her master burned the emblem into her forearm. The Death Eaters who were privy to the initiation ritual shivered with foreboding and awe. The Dark Lord need never use compulsion charms such as the Imperius upon her, for she vowed upon her magic itself to be loyal to him, his tremendous power enough to make her believe she would rather live without it than lose him. Nor would she ever deny his need to vent his pent-up frustrations at other’s follies upon her using painful curses. If anything, Bellatrix relished in the attention which was being lavished upon her in that moment.

 

**_Spellbound deep in my soul, in my soul_ **

 

The Dark Mark was a shared part of her Lord, Bellatrix could feel him within her as she caressed it lovingly, eagerly awaiting his call. When he was angry, the mark would seize her arm with pain as though a thousand needles were stabbing her. Bellatrix would sit there for hours, gripping her arm and weeping as her Lord’s rage persevered, longing to be at his side to soothe him. When he was joyful, her arm would tingle pleasantly and she would feel his glee, his satisfaction at having achieved what he set out for; she would feel the pleasure which coursed through him when he cast the Cruciatus curse. Bellatrix knew that she felt him much more intensely than her fellow Death Eaters and knew that it was because she was far closer to the Dark Lord than they, because she accepted his mark, his ownership, in its entirety.

 

**_In my heart burns a sizzling fire, a sizzling fire_ **

 

Her husband Rodolphus was an aloof man, something which pleased Bellatrix immensely. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, not love, which was only fitting due to her unquestionable devotion to the Dark Lord.

Still, a pang rang through her heart, normally cold upon the subject of marriage and love, in that she could not marry her Lord. Bellatrix’s deepest ambition, her most secret, was that she yearned to be the Dark Lord’s consort. She had once pushed it to the forefront of her mind when her Master Legillimised her, making it clear that she cared not of the conditions, she just wanted him to understand her need and wilfulness to serve him above all others. Her Lord had scorned her, saying that such cupidity was a weakness, and that she would do better to remain steadfast in her binding with Rodolphus.

Bellatrix understood then that her Lord had no need for copulation, having ascended from the basal need of carnal pleasure, for magical power and knowledge above all else were all he needed. Her Lord’s urging that she and Rodolphus procreate was a blessing, so they did as he suggested, though stiltedly. When Bellatrix failed for the third time to conceive, she knew it was a curse – her womb rejecting Rodolphus’ seed as it was paltry in comparison to the Dark Lord’s which she so lusted for. She grieved for what was not to be privately, away from her husband, away from her Lord – shame encompassing her being.

She would never be good enough for him.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Spellbound I am, I am_ **

 

As the war raged on, the losses on each side a high tally, Bellatrix witnessed her Lord’s omnipotence. Many feared his looks, waxy and not-quite-human as they were, his blood-shot eyes evoking panic in many, but Bellatrix found him captivating. The Dark Lord had spoke at length about how he had traversed where others had been to weak to, in his means for power. As Lord Voldemort’s features shifted over the years and knowledgeable of Bellatrix’s ardour, he would often ask her, mockingly, if it was torturous for her to witness him losing his alluring, youthful looks. Bellatrix would always shake her head ‘no’, firm and truthful in her response; that he was enthralling and those that averted their gaze were doing so because he was too ethereal to look at.

What do looks truly matter, when one can feel the magic radiating from the man’s pores as he enters a room?

 

**_The wizard has enchanted me, enchanted me_ **

 

It turned out that her Lord could want for more than just knowledge or power, after all. Bellatrix felt unbridled envy as she felt the absolute feeling of _obsession_ resonating within her Dark Mark, as he harangued the urgency to hunt for the child of the Prophecy. She averted her gaze to the floor as he gave one of his speeches about the child so that he would not sense her jealousy, though remained listening astutely until the end. As Bellatrix left the meeting room, she met her Lord’s eyes from underneath the hood he had taken to adorning and saw the mirth that danced in his eyes for a moment, taunting her; daring her to tell him off and suffer a swift death. She would never, for her Lord was always right – this child was somehow a threat to all she held dear, and he must be annihilated before he become significant.

 

**_Spellbound in my heart’s root, my heart's root_ **

 

Bellatrix felt indescribable pain spreading from her Dark Mark, burning a trail of destruction through her veins and unleashing unabridged torture upon her heart. Screaming, she fell to the floor in distress, horror spreading through her being at the unthinkable. There was no way he could have fallen. It was impossible, a mere baby would not be able to do that to her Lord. Even Bellatrix gasped and trembled on the floor in her denial, she knew herself incorrect – for all the pain which had just coursed through her, her Dark Mark now lay dormant, the dark lines less intense. The area around the Mark was red and raw as if someone had cast a scouring charm upon her arm. Bellatrix wept, frantically looking for her compatriots, and saw them, like her, sobbing on the ground and cradling their arms.

Bellatrix screeched her anguish into the air, her rage palpable that such an inconceivable event had come to pass. She gathered the others she knew to be almost as loyal as her, and they set off to let the world know, that even though he may have moved on, his legacy would continue.

 

**_My eyes gaze to where the wizard stood_ **

 

The Aurors stood around her in a tightly formed circle, wands pointing at her heart from every angle. Bellatrix did not care, however, for she was where her Lord had been. The now-plottable house where her Lord had disappeared was in front of her, and as she stared into the still-smoking wreckage, she knew he was still with them. She could feel his power, his magic tangible in the air surrounding the decrepit house, with its roof caved in, revealing a terribly damaged nursery. Bellatrix hoped that even if this child had reportedly survived, he suffer pain one thousand times the magnitude of what her Lord may have suffered two nights ago. As Bellatrix peered through the rubble, she thought that she might have seen the outline of her Lord’s robe, and she began cackling.

The Aurors surrounding her recoiled at the crude sound her laughter made as it reverberated through their bones, yet she could not stop. Bellatrix allowed them to restrain her, laughing all the while, for she knew that he would make his return, that he would lead them to salvation. For all she may suffer in Azkaban, she was justified by her Lord. Her Lord would reward her, certainly, and would understand her ceaseless loyalty, whilst others may see the opportunity to defect. The Dark Lord would bring untold carnage upon those who dared oppose him in this war they thought over, and whoever else dares deny his right to rule, when he deems them worthy of his return.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
